


Sanctuary

by anastiel



Series: Supernatural Codas [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e12 Prophet and Loss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Season/Series 14, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21755122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Michael has gone back to banging around in his head, Dean can’t hear exactly what he’s doing or saying other than it reminds him of hell and that’s bad enough. He focuses on the music coming out of the speakers, the rumble of the Impala underneath him, and the soft sound of Sam and Cas breathing around him.Coda for 14x12 Prophet and Loss.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural Codas [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/160976
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	Sanctuary

Music has always been something present in Dean’s life. A means of grounding, or a distraction, or sometimes just background noise to keep him going. Metallica especially. _ Master of Puppets _got him through his first heartbreak. Metallica self-titled got him through high school, and Sam leaving. Except this time, Sam isn’t the one leaving, Dean is.

Dean slips Metallica, self-titled, into the tape deck the moment he gets back into the Impala. The doors creak, loud in the heavy silence, as Sam climbs in next to him, and Cas in the back. He flicks the volume up a bit as he heads out into the freeway; quiet enough to hear the comforting hum of Baby’s engine, but loud enough that Sam and Cas know better than to bring up the previous conversation. 

Cas is a resolute wall of silence in the backseat. Dean avoids the rearview mirror like a new sort of plague; the last thing he needs is Cas realizing Dean’s agreement to try other alternatives was more of an appeasement for Sam rather than the truth. Sam sniffles next to him, and Dean hears the quick tap of his fingers on his phone. He’s probably researching _ already _. He has always been stubborn, Dean should have known this wouldn’t go over well. 

Dean’s cheek aches from Sam’s fist, and it’s a welcome pain, something different than the terror uncertainty of his future. There will be a purple bruise there in the morning that Sam will stare at like a sad puppy, and apologize over for the next five days. He doesn’t blame him, or Cas for their anger, it’s just he doesn’t understand it.

He keeps his eyes forward on the spread of the road in front of him illuminated by the headlights. 

The box trails along behind the Impala, every bump along the highway making the chains holding it to the trailer clang together. A death rattle, his own personal omen. Every day Michael breaks away another chip in the barricaded door in Dean’s head. He’s living on borrowed time already, it’s only a matter of Michael’s relentless will until he breaks through and destroys the world using Dean’s body. 

If Dean thought it would do any good, he’d kill himself now. Except, Michael would only keep bringing him back. 

Michael has gone back to banging around in his head, Dean can’t hear exactly what he’s doing or saying other than it reminds him of hell and that’s bad enough. He focuses on the music coming out of the speakers, the rumble of the Impala underneath him, and the soft sound of Sam and Cas breathing around him. 

They are the lone car on the highway this late, surrounded by endless darkness that creeps in the longer he drives. It seeps into the car and fills the empty spaces in Dean’s brain not occupied by Michael. He tries to keep his breathing even, but the phantom sensation of water filling his lungs overpowers.

“Are we driving straight through back to Lebanon?” Sam asks. 

Water dissipates at Sam’s voice and Dean is breaching the surface again, gasping for another breath. 

“I don’t think I can.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam look at him, and raise an eyebrow, give an imperceptible nod. Dean grips the steering wheel tighter until the tops of his knuckles turn white and breathes in deep. He has control of baby, that’s better than nothing. 

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No,” Dean replies, too fast before Sam’s done asking. 

“Okay, that’s fine. Motel then?” Sam’s voice has softened, and he sounds like he’s speaking to Dean as if he’s a spooked horse. 

“Yeah, next town I see we’ll stop,” Dean says. 

Twenty miles pass in a blur. Dean spots the lights first, a cluster of them up in the distance, a sort of mirage against the dark night sky. A few signs on the side of the highway indicate various gas stations, a few motels, and a handful of diners. It’s typical, small town America, and the resonating nostalgia it hits him with is what makes him take the exit. He picks the second motel off the freeway, a small one-story with sunflower yellow walls, bright against the glow of the neon sign. 

He pulls in near the check-in office, shuts off the car and quite literally, wallows in the silence. He knows Sam is waiting for him to say something, but he can’t find his voice. 

“I’ll head in and get us two rooms,” Sam says, breaking through the silence. 

The idea of any sort of separation sends Dean into panic mode, has his brain on a repeat of _ no no no. _

“Just one,” he says voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” Sam asks. Dean doesn’t miss the confused shock in his tone.

“Sam, just... get one, okay?”

He feels like he’s pleading, doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking for. All he knows is he doesn’t want them to leave, either of them. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

The door squeals when Sam gets out and creaks when he closes it behind him. Gravel crunches under his shoes, fading off into the distance. Dean needs to get up, get out of the car. He tries to move his legs, but they feel like they’ve been filled with cement. A surge of anxious energy rushes through him and a heavy sigh punches from his mouth. 

“Dean?” Cas asks.

It’s the first time he’s spoken the entire drive and the sound of his voice sends Dean reeling. He slams his eyes shut and sucks in a deep breath, squeezing and releasing the steering wheel. 

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” Cas answers.

A warm palm presses into his shoulder and Dean leans into it, simultaneously wanting to brush Cas off at the same time. 

He doesn’t deserve the kindness, though he wants it. He made a choice to let Michael in, he has to suffer the consequences. 

“Let’s just get inside okay?” Dean says, and his voice sounds loud to his own ears. 

“Okay,” Cas answers. 

He squeezes Dean’s shoulder, and then the comforting press of his hand is gone. The back door of the Impala squeals as Cas gets out, and Dean tries to will himself to do the same. 

His heartbeat thumps heavy in his chest, pulling him further down into the seat. He moves his hand to the door handle, for something to hold onto when the door clicks and is pulled open for him. 

“Dean,” Cas says, soft but resolute. 

Dean looks up at him through bleary eyes and blinks. There’s a streetlamp above Cas’ head, fluorescent and bright against the expanse of the dark sky. It looks like a halo. 

“What?”

“Do you want help?” Cas asks. 

Dean turns his head away from Cas’ gaze, fists clenching and unclenching on top of his thighs. 

“I can get out of my own damn car by myself.”

“I didn’t say you needed help, I asked if you wanted it.”

Dean sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll be here if you need me,” Cas answers. 

And that’s the problem isn’t it? Sam and Cas care too much. 

Dean nods and rotates his body until the soles of his shoes hit gravel. It slips under him like those square ice cubes that come in fountain drinks. He grips the shell of the Impala, always sturdy under him, and slowly stands to his feet. 

Logically, he knows he’s fine, but the moment he stands everything goes fuzzy. Tunnel-vision sets in and zeroes in on Cas in front of him, so Dean focuses on his face, the sparkling blue of his eyes, and the slant of his nose. Dean feels Cas’ hands brush his elbow, hovering there just in case. He’s waiting for permission or Dean to lose his footing, Dean isn’t sure which. 

Dean reaches out instead, grabs onto Cas’ forearms, and clings. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Dean admits, quiet. 

“Is it Michael?” Cas asks. He takes ahold of Dean’s elbows gently, like he’s breakable and Dean almost does break. 

“Dunno, I just feel... lost.”

Cas tightens his grip on him and asks, “Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

“Do you need Sam?”

Dean thinks about that, and then slowly shakes his head.

“I’m okay with just you right now. Plus, someone’s gotta bring all the shit in from the car.”

Cas laughs at that, small and tight but it’s a laugh nonetheless. Dean’s head feels a little clearer. 

“Are you ready?” Cas asks. Cas moved his hands and his body, now pressed alongside Dean, loose arm wrapped around his waist just in case he needs it. 

It’s the closest they’ve ever been aside from the times one of them has been injured. 

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Take it slow. I don’t want you to get dizzy on me,” Cas orders, and tightens his hold on Dean.

Dean nods and starts walking. 

He’s not really unsteady, now that he’s up, feet shuffling along through gravel the short distance from the Impala to the closest motel room door. Cas holding onto him eases his mind more than his physical form. 

“I’m okay,” Dean says, once they’ve stopped in front of room fifteen. He leans up against the side of the building, right next to the door. 

Cas doesn’t release him, keeps a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder, another resting on his waist, and Dean’s never been more thankful at how well Cas can read him than he is in this moment. 

Across the parking lot, Dean spots Sam’s and his ruffled hair walking back towards them. Sam has a pair of keys dangling from his fist, a worried tightness etched onto his forehead that Dean knows is because of him. 

The closer he gets, the more Dean feels the anxious energy bubbling around in his stomach start to drain out of him. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Sam says, soft and careful as he steps up onto the sidewalk, stopping a foot in front of Dean and Cas. Dean sees Sam’s fingers twitch at his side, then bump against his thigh, as if he thought about reaching up to touch Dean and decided against it. Dean wishes he would. 

“A little more blurry, but a lot less like drowning so better I guess?” Dean answers tries to laugh it off but stops when he sees Sam’s eyebrows crinkle together. 

“We’re in fourteen, a room over. Checkout is at 11 tomorrow, so we can sleep as long as you need. If you need another day they’re pretty empty so it’s not gonna be a problem.”

Dean nods, looks up and meets Sam’s eyes. He’s trying to hide his worry, trying to be stronger than he needs to be. But Dean knows his tells, and Sam is scared as shit. Hopefully, Cas has enough resolve to help them both through this. 

“Is it okay if Cas gets you inside while I get our stuff?” Sam asks. 

Dean almost says no, but nods again and they exchange keys.

Sam touches him then, a tight grip on his shoulder that almost causes Dean to teeter and crumple right into Cas. He lingers briefly, sighs heavy, and gives Dean a lame attempt at a smile, but it’s something, and the world seems a little brighter. 

Once he’s gone, boots crunching in the gravel, Dean turns to Cas. He’s looking at Dean expectantly, and arches an eyebrow up in question. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s get out of the cold.”

The motel is baseline for most off-highway places. Two queen beds parallel each other on the right side of the room, a basic brown nightstand between them, with a flickering red alarm clock and a small lamp. It smells like childhood, the moment Dean walks in; the slight musk of old lint in the air, mixed with hints of cleaning products, and cigarette smoke. A few brief flashbacks of hundreds of rooms just like this one flash through his mind. Dad curled up in the middle of the bed closest to the window, gun resting beside him in place of a body pillow, his soft snores echoing throughout the room. He remembers the tickle of Sam’s hair in his nose, small little hands resting atop of his, and his cold feet tucked in behind Dean’s knees. 

Until Dean turned thirteen and Dad either kept him away or said they were too old to share beds anymore, it was always like this. Dad close by, guarding the door in case evil decided to break in during the night and Sam, space-heater warm, wrapped up in his arms. 

He’s hit with a sudden urge to be wrapped up just like that, held tight away from every evil thing going on in his head and the outside world other than this hotel room. 

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice breaks him out of his own head.

“Do you want to sit down?” Cas asks. He’s still touching him, but he’s stepped back a few inches to look at Dean, a slight frown on his face.

“Yeah, but not the one by the window; creeps me out.”

“I know,” Cas says, smiling. 

Sitting down again is a relief on his legs, he feels like he ran a marathon and they’re jelly-weak. He stares blankly out the front door, watching as Sam gathers everything up, locks the doors, and checks the Impala in the way he’s seen Dean do thousands of times. 

Cas settles next to him, sits close so their thighs are touching and Dean presses into the warmth. 

“Where do you want the bags?” Sam asks, coming into the room, Dean’s bag slung over his shoulder, Cas’ over the other, and his own held tight in his arms. 

“Over there,” Dean says, gesturing towards the bed across from him. 

Sam hesitates, looks between the one other empty bed and back to Dean and Cas. 

“Okay,” Sam says, and nods, an unreadable expression passing over his face. The bed squeaks when Sam unceremoniously drops everything onto it in a big swoop. He pads over and closes the front door, locking it behind him.

Dean doesn’t know what exactly is going through Sam’s head about this current sleeping arrangement, and he’s terrified to find out. Dean is functioning on need right now, a dangerous thing he so very rarely allows himself to indulge in, especially around the two people that fit his definition of that four-letter word.

A speech starts to take form in his mouth, but Dean waits while Sam, with nervous energy, moves around the room, adjusting the salt lines, and walking just to walk. He knows Sam, better than anyone, knows this is how Sam acts when there’s something wrong and he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Eventually, Sam sits across from Dean and Cas on the edge of the adjacent bed. 

“Sorry about your cheek,” Sam says and there are the sad puppy dog eyes. Shit, he really _ does _feel bad.

Dean can feel the bruise blooming under his skin, a low ache that he’s ended up focusing on a lot over the past few hours. The presence of it kept him out of his own head, and aware of reality, the existence of his own body. 

Dean quirks his mouth up, and reaches over to pat Sam’s knee, “It’s okay, Sammy, it’ll just make me look a little extra pretty for a few days.”

“Impossible,” Sam says, voice barely above a whisper but Dean hears him. 

He looks up at Sam, meeting his eyes and finds Sam with the tiniest of smiles on his face and looking almost shy. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees the side of Cas’ mouth tip up into a small smile. 

Huh. _ Interesting. _

He chooses not to dwell on the implications of the past ten seconds because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to actually say anything he _ needs _to say. 

Dean breathes deep, and releases it out in a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen with this whole Michael thing, but I know I don’t wanna do this. I’m sorry I wasn’t going to tell you both, I figured it would be easier that way, you know? I guess easier for me. I didn’t want to get here,” Dean gestures between the three of them with his hand, “because I knew if it did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to follow through. You wouldn’t let me, and I love you for that, but if it’s the only way and the destruction of the world lies in my choice? You know I won’t choose me.”

“We’re gonna figure out another way so you don’t have to make that choice,” Sam says.

Cas nods next to him, agreeing with Sam’s words. 

“What if we can’t? What if there isn’t another way and this _ is _ it? Are you gonna be able to deal with that? Getting dropped into the fucking sea with an archangel in my head isn’t something I can just come back from.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think Cas doesn’t know that? We know, Dean, and we’re prepared to do everything but that,” Sam says. There's stubbornness in his tone that Dean remembers from when Sam was a teenager. He was always full of more fire and fury than anything else back in those days. They never really fought, but with Dad it was always one wrong word that would light a match between the two of them, quick to explode. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You deserve a choice for yourself, for what you _ want. _”

Dean thinks about that. He thinks about the lazy mornings in the Bunker that he gets now. The times he’ll wake up earlier than Sam and cook breakfast. By the time Sam wakes up and heads down to the kitchen and Cas meanders down from the depths of the library, there’s food and hot coffee ready for them. Sam sings praises of Dean’s food, like he always has, ever since the gross mac n’ cheese combinations of childhood. Cas eats, not because he has to, but because he knows that it makes Dean happy because he likes trying things that Dean made for him. They make a good team together, hunting and otherwise. There’s always a semblance of loss when Cas is gone for an extended period of time or the three of them get separated during a hunt. 

Family. It doesn’t encompass what they are to him, but it’s the only word close enough. 

Dean nods, slow, and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t want to die.”

It feels weird for the words to leave his mouth and for the first time he actually means them. 

“I _ really _ don’t want to, but with the options we have right now it’s either I die or Michael takes over the world and you know who he’s going after first,” Dean says, pointedly looking back and forth between Sam and Cas, “And if that happened, I’d rather die.”

Dean meets Sam’s eyes across from him and finds his brother staring back, an empty look in his eyes, like he’s tired; like he’s lost. Sam sighs heavy, shakes his head, and looks to Cas, who is as always, the resolute stronghold between them. 

“If we have a choice,” Cas starts, voice strong despite the noticeable tremble, “We will do whatever we must to find an alternative. If we can’t, then we’ll stay with you as Michael destroys the Earth.”

Dean scans between Cas and Sam, finding the resolution etched onto Sam’s face matching Cas’. They’ve talked about this, about if it came to the point where they would have to do something. They won’t kill him, and Dean knows they won’t let him kill himself. 

“A world without you is a world we do not wish to live in,” Cas says, reaching a hand over to cover the curve of Dean’s knee. 

Dean doesn’t say it, but the world is going to end, one way or another. He needs to use his time wisely. 

“We’re going to figure something else out, Dean.”

“Sure,” Dean replies and hopes it sounds as nihilistic as he thinks it does. 

“We will, we have to,” Sam adds, ever confident in their abilities to bypass death. He wishes he had as much faith in himself, in all of them, as Sam does. 

Dean nods, just so they think he’s onboard, at least partially. He doesn’t wanna talk about this anymore, doesn’t really want to talk at all. He feels a bone-deep exhaustion sinking through him; whether it’s from Michael’s incessant pounding or his own fragility; he’s not sure. He turns his knee more into the curve of Cas’ palm, lets the warmth of his touch flow through him. He needs -- too much. 

It must show on his face because Cas’ squeezes his knee and that gets Dean to look over at him. 

“What do you need?”

He swallows down the _ you _that threatens to slip out of his mouth, and shrugs. 

“I dunno, a shower I guess? It might help.” Dean looks over at him, and finds Cas staring at him, expression more open than he’s seen before. 

“Are you hungry?” Sam asks.

Dean looks up at him, and shakes his head, “No.”

Sam looks twitchy. He has his hands folded together, resting on his knees. He is no more than six inches away; they’ve sat across from each other like this hundreds of times on dirtier motel beds than these over their lives. Dean wishes Sam would touch him too. But he won’t ask, can’t ask Sam to give something of himself Dean _ knows _he can’t and won’t. 

He can ask Cas, knows Cas loves him at least a fraction of the way Dean needs.

“Can you.... would you... come with me?”

“Of course,” Cas answers almost immediately. His face has softened in a way Dean has never seen before. It’s love, it can’t be anything else. He wishes he deserves it as much as Cas seems to think he does. 

“Cas, wait -- if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just....” Dean falters, hears the panic in his own voice, bordering on desperation. If he can’t have them both, he needs at least Cas.

“You need me and I want to.”

“Okay,” Dean says, and it comes out in a heavy breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“Okay,” Cas says, and he’s smiling, small but it’s there nonetheless and eases all the doubt and nerves bubbling up in Dean’s chest. 

Dean isn’t sure how he manages to stand without help, but he does. He sways a little at full height and Sam rises with him, grips his forearm to steady him. Cas’ hand grips his shoulder tight. Dean clings to Sam’s wrist in a death grip, not wanting to let go. 

“You okay?” Sam asks and loosens his grip a little. 

“Little dizzy, but I’m okay.” Dean’s fingers flutter on Sam’s pulse point. If there ever was something that calmed him instantly; it’s evidence of Sam real and alive in front of him. 

“Take it easy,” Sam says. 

He releases him slowly, and Dean instantly misses him, aches for him like a lost limb. 

Somehow, Dean finds his feet, and pads the few dozen steps over to the other bed and gets out the things he needs for his shower. 

Cas meets him by the doorway, holding a similar set of things to Dean’s. He is appreciative, in moments like these, that Cas just _ knows _. 

“I’ll be out here, getting ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything,” Sam says, still standing between the beds.

Dean looks at him, really _ looks _, and finds a dejected look in his eyes Dean recognizes as helplessness. Dean hates it. 

He nods. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Cas closes the door shut behind him, pointedly not locking it, most likely just in case Dean starts to lose it and he needs back up. 

“Dean,” Cas says, voice soft, and rests a wide palm on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turns to face him, clothes bunched in his arms. “Hmm?”

“How can I help?”

Dean shrugs, “I dunno, I just don’t wanna be alone.”

Cas takes Dean’s bundle of things from his arms, setting it down on the counter. 

“Do you trust me?” Cas asks.

“Completely,” Dean replies.

Cas smiles, gentle, and reaches out. He slips a hand along Dean’s side, to his back, and pulls him in. Cas wraps his arms around him, pulls him in until Dean huffs out right against his neck, Cas strong arms embracing him completely.

“I've got you.”

It’s all Dean can do to not fall lax against him. He could stay right here forever, completely wrapped up in Cas, the smell of him all around Dean. 

Cas pulls back once Dean’s breathing has evened out, and hovers his hand near the hem of Dean’s t-shirt. He arches an eyebrow as a question and Dean nods. 

The air is cool, makes goosebumps rise up across his chest the moment Cas gets Dean’s shirt off. Cas moves away, only briefly, to turn on the shower and is back again, shrugging off his own clothes. 

He stays close, closer than Dean’s ever allowed himself to be to Cas before. He’s exceedingly grateful that Cas is _ Cas_, and has always found human boundaries obsolete. 

Dean expects to feel stripped, being naked in front of Cas. It’s completely the opposite. 

He watches Cas strip in front of him, allowing himself to look because he_ can. _ The thrum of arousal skimming inside him isn’t ignorable, but it’s dormant for now. It’s not what he needs right now, but he stows it away for later when he can and is mentally in a better place. 

Cas looks at him unabashedly and Dean feels himself blush despite his reserves being up.

“Shall we?” Cas asks and Dean finds that he doesn’t know how to speak anymore, so he lets Cas take his hand instead. 

The water is just hot enough to make his skin tingle once they step under the spray together. 

Cas maneuvers Dean so Dean is in front of him, the shower spiraling down over his head, soaking his hair and skin. Cas keeps his hands on Dean the entire time, even when he reaches to grab the shampoo off the ledge. It’s Sam’s, not Dean’s and the overwhelming smell of coconut hits his nose as Cas gets some onto his hands.

Cas starts to work the soap into Dean’s hair, stroking through the short strands, massaging his scalp. Dean lets himself relax his head back into Cas’ capable hands and cuts out everything going on in his head. Michael’s pounding fades to a distant echo. 

Dean relaxes his head back as Cas rinses the soap from his hair with gentle strokes. He didn’t need a shower, but he’s always used showers as a time to get his thoughts together, to cut out the rest of the world. 

The more the water pulsates against his skin, and the soft caress of Cas’ hands against his body, the better he feels. More like himself, less like he’s about to drown.

Cas’ arms drop down to wrap around his waist, and he pulls Dean firmly back against his chest. 

“Relax, just focus on me.”

Cas presses a chaste kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean can’t help but melt into him. 

He closes his eyes and sinks into the warmth of Cas’ arms and the steam from the shower rising up around them. 

“You know I love you, right?” Dean says, the words flowing out of him before he can stop them.

“Of course, you’re just bad at saying it.”

“Asshole,” Dean grumbles, even as he fits his fingers between Cas’ where they rest on his stomach. Cas chuckles his breath puffing out warm against the back of Dean’s neck.

“You show it through actions, Dean. As does Sam, as do I, I learned it from both of you after all.”

“You shouldn’t take tips from us, buddy, we aren’t the best examples.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well... “ Dean starts, trying to find another excuse and failing. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe so.”

Cas squeezes Dean tighter in his arms, rests his chin on the top of Dean’s shoulder and holds him tight. 

Dean can feel it, the longing to kiss Cas thrumming in his veins. Most of the time he keeps it hidden deep inside with all of his unbidden desires, but now it flows free and settles as an ache in his chest.

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Can you kiss me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Cas moves for him, hand slipping around Dean’s hips until they’re facing each other. Dean holds his breath as Cas’ hands reach up to cup his cheeks, thumb rubbing circles onto his cheekbone. 

Lights don’t explode when Cas kisses him, the world doesn’t stop spinning like it should, but everything feels like it’s falling into place and an inexplicable sense of peace settles over him. Cas slips a hand into his hair, pulls him closer. Dean breathes deep and finally, lets go. 

They kiss under the hot spray until Dean needs to break apart for air, gasping and sputtering against the water running down his cheeks from the shower. Cas kisses his forehead, and gently turns him back around so he can hold him again, hands easily finding their new home on Dean’s stomach. 

“Dean, what _ do _ you need tonight? After we get out of here?”

“Dunno. I was thinking, more like hoping, maybe you’d hold me while I tried to sleep. M’not sure I can sleep alone.”

“If that’s what you need, I can do that. I’d like to hold you,” Cas says. 

Dean feels his cheeks flush, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. Cas is contemplating something else, Dean can tell in the gentle way his fingers trace across Dean’s skin. 

“What?” 

Cas doesn’t answer right away, but when he does his voice is quieter, more subdued. 

“Why didn’t you ask Sam too? Why me?”

Dean pops open an eye and half-turns in Cas’ arms. “You’re not a consolation prize, Cas.”

Cas presses a ghost of a kiss on Dean’s neck. “I’m aware, that’s not what I meant. It’s clear you need both of us, but you refuse to let Sam give you what you need.”

“What I need, Cas, isn’t something he can give me.”

“Why?” Cas asks, sounding genuinely confused. 

"It’s wrong, and he doesn’t love me like that.”

It’s one thing for Dean to struggle with whatever confused mess of love he has for Sam, it’s another for him to even think Sam could feel that way too. 

Cas sighs, heavy against the back of Dean’s neck. “Dean, I touched your brother’s soul. He loves you in ways you don’t realize.”

Dean slams his eyes shut and shakes his head, “That doesn’t mean I get to ask him to give me things he shouldn’t even think about.”

“Dean.”

“I can’t --” he chokes out. 

It goes against everything he’s built up over the years, everything he’s told himself he couldn’t have. He can’t have both of them, he’s not allowed, especially not Sam. 

“Okay,” Cas concedes, running a soothing hand down Dean’s side. “Okay, I’m sorry. Do you want to stay here for awhile?” He kisses the side of Dean’s neck and rests his forehead against Dean’s cheek. 

“Yeah, a little longer if that’s okay.”

Dean focuses on the press of Cas’ hand into his skin, the way it glides easily over his body. Sleep will come easy after this, his body loosening underneath the water and Cas’ capable hands. 

“Whatever you need,” Cas replies. 

* * *

Dean’s skin tingles the moment he steps out of the shower, the temperature change making goosebumps rise on his arms. He is sleepy now, the steam from the shower working its magic. He lets Cas lead him over to the counter, their hands loosely intertwined, shoulders bumping. Cas stays close even while they dry off and get dressed, makes sure to have physical contact with Dean in some way at all times. Dean appreciates the effort, is relieved that Cas knows exactly what he needs. 

He brushes his teeth, goes through his usual bedtime routine, even while his head is spinning from the newness of everything from their earlier conversation in the shower and the revelation of how right it all feels. For the first time since Michael took over his head is clear, nothing but his own thoughts bouncing around in his mind, worried about the next few hours and if he will manage to even talk to Sam. 

Sam doesn’t need to do what Cas will -- despite how much Dean wants it -- hold him while he tries to fight back Michael in his sleep, but he needs a hug. The one earlier was preceded with violence, and as much as he understands where Sam’s outburst came from, the sting on his cheek an ever-present reminder, he wants gentleness. He wants a reminder of Sam from when they were younger, the lightness of him, how he didn’t care about what Dad said, he’d hug Dean for five minutes when he came back from hunts.

Dean realizes he’s been staring at his own reflection in the mirror when Cas rests a warm palm on his shoulder. His touch burns through Dean’s t-shirt and sends a rush of comforting grace through him. 

“Dean, you should talk to him.”

Dean meets Cas’ eyes in the mirror, reaches up to cover Cas’ hand with his own and slowly shakes his head. 

“Cas, if I --- if I ask, I could lose him.”

“You won’t.”

He sees it, the sincerity and truth in Cas’ eyes. It makes his heart stutter in his chest, the gravity of it all. Cas looks so human right now, standing next to him clad in pajamas, similar to Dean’s own. He’s here, and he’ll be here no matter what happens out there. 

“Okay.” 

The bathroom door squeaks when Dean exits, going first ahead of Cas, his dirty clothes bundled up in his arms. Sam looks up from where he’s sitting on one of the motel beds, alert and instantly on his feet, resting the book he was flipping through onto the comforter. He looks so soft changed now into his sleep pants and a t-shirt, hair soft and curling over his forehead. 

“Hey, you feeling any better?” Sam asks. Sam looks him up and down out of habit, eyes darting over Dean, checking for some sort of visible exterior wound, a habitual act when either one of them is injured or suffering from something.

Dean nods offers Sam a small smile as he crosses the room to put away his things. “Yeah, I feel more relaxed and the shower cleared my head.”

“And Michael?”

“Silent, for now. It’s the first time since I let him in that he’s been gone completely.”

“Good, I’m glad it helped. Thanks, Cas.” 

Dean watches the two of them share a glance and how Sam’s face softens into a smile. 

“I’m glad I could help,” Cas answers. Dean feels Cas’ hand rest onto his shoulder and squeeze. A touch meant as motivation for what Dean is terrified of or for comfort Dean isn’t sure, but he takes it as both. 

“Are you going to sleep now?” Sam asks.

“Gonna try, yeah.”

Dean looks up and sees Sam worrying at his lip with his teeth, a shock of hair falling down over his face. He’s closer than Dean realized and that makes this infinitely more difficult.

“Is there anything I can do?” Sam asks after a moment. “I wanna help, Dean.”

Dean swallows thick and sucks in a heavy breath. He is grateful for the hand Cas still has on him because he’s pretty sure if Cas wasn’t there he’d be running out of the room. 

“I don’t know,” Dean starts, then trails off, dropping his gaze from Sam’s face. 

If Dean looks at him, he won’t be able to do this, he’s barely holding on as is. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asks. 

“I need you in a way I don’t think you can give me.”

“Tell me.”

“Sam.”

“Dean, please.”

Dean sighs heavy, knowing that he can never deny Sam anything, even this, even if it ends up destroying them. 

“I don’t think I can sleep alone, and I -- I want you both with me, to hold me. I just... I need grounding to keep Michael at bay and I need you to touch me, but it’s too much to ask. I shouldn’t even be fucking asking you this, it’s messed up, and I love you too much but hey if it’s either this or I die --”

“Dean you -” Sam laughs, cutting Dean’s emotional ramble off mid-sentence, “You don’t think I love you like that? I have _ always _loved you more than I should.”

“What?!”

Dean looks up at him then and finds Sam smiling in almost a sort of wonder at him. Sam steps forward and Dean feels all of the breath leave his lungs. Sam slips his hand into Dean’s and tangles their fingers together. He almost laughs at the softness of it. Dean never expected Sam to be so goddamn _ sweet. _

“We’re fucked up,” Sam says, shrugging and chuckles as he says it, “But I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember, so don’t think you’re expecting too much of me, you’re not. I love you and I would do anything for you.” He pauses, looking briefly over Dean’s shoulder at Cas. “And so would Cas. We will give you whatever you need to get you through this.”

Sam squeezes his hand, and Dean finally releases the breath he had been holding. Sam’s eyes dart over Dean’s face searching, open and soft, and Dean wants to move, to finally step inside his orbit, but there is something ingrained into him that won’t let him move first. 

“What do you need?” Sam asks. 

Dean falters, drops his gaze from Sam’s, empty hand twitching against his thigh and bites his lip. “Just... touch me, please.”

“Dean,” Sam says, soft. Dean feels Sam’s thumb tip his chin up, dragging his eyes back up to Sam’s. He swallows the swell of a sob rising up in his throat. “Look at me.”

Sam’s hand slides up, rests on the curve of Dean’s cheek. His mouth quirks up into a smile, and steps in close.

The earth doesn’t shatter when Sam kisses him. He doesn’t get struck by lightning. Sam kisses how he exists; stubborn, with a gentle possessiveness and all-consuming in a way that Dean knows he will easily get lost in. There’s no going back now. 

“Bed?” Sam asks, voice trembling.

It’s a relief to know that Sam is outwardly as overwhelmed as Dean feels. 

“Yeah, that’s -- that’s a good idea.”

Sam adjusts his grip, drops his hand down to Dean’s hip, but keeps him close. There’s a tight squeeze on his shoulder, and then Cas’ voice comes from behind him. “Dean, are you alright?”

Dean nods, slow, checking the awareness of his body. There’s a low hum of vibrating energy running through him that is somehow simultaneously incredibly intoxicating and calming. He takes a deep breath, clings tighter to Sam and takes a few steps towards the bed. Sam and Cas move with him, keeping contact while they do. Climbing onto the bed proves to be slightly difficult with them touching him, so he shrugs out of their grasp, hastily crawling under the covers, feeling entirely exposed in his vulnerability. 

“How do you need us?” Sam asks. His hand is back, resting on the curve of Dean’s shoulder. Dean looks up at him and finds Sam’s eyes gentle and caring.

“If you could hold me and then Cas faces me and does the same, I just,” Dean pauses, looks back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t wanna feel anything other than the two of you.”

They both nod understanding and Sam makes a low noise in his throat. He slips off his flannel until he’s just in his t-shirt and boxers, Cas matches him, and they slip into bed on either side of Dean. Sam’s arms immediately wrap around his waist, dragging Dean to him until his back is snug up against Sam’s chest. Dean’s pulse flutters in his chest and a sob rises up out of his throat, as Cas’ hands settle low on his back, tangling under Sam’s. They’re so close, Cas’ breath hot on his cheeks, their noses bumping when Dean adjusts to get comfortable. 

At first, Dean’s not sure where to put his hands, ends up resting one on the firm slant of Cas’ hip, fingertips gliding over the soft fabric of his t-shirt, and the other covering Sam’s forearm where it rests on his stomach. He lets them maneuver him until he’s centered between them, completely envelope by their warmth. relinquishing control as his head starts to feel fuzzy, sleep hitting him all at once. 

Inside his mind there is peace. He sucks in a breath and sighs deep, weary from the struggle of the past few days. Behind him, Sam presses a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, snuggling against him as he shifts. Cas brushes the tip of his nose against Dean’s, closes the short distance between them, and presses his lips to Dean’s. It’s a chaste kiss, a brief slip of their lips together, but enough to make Dean tremble at the gentleness of it.

“Sleep, Dean,” Cas murmurs, pressing a kiss to his jaw and Sam hugs him tighter humming his agreement with Cas. 

He drifts, relaxing into the two of them and finally allowing himself to let go and let their capable hands keep him safe. 

* * *

When Dean wakes again, it’s early morning. Pre-sunrise glow blips through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating the room in a dark navy light. He hears the even in-and-out of Sam’s quiet snoring from behind him, and every few seconds Cas’ exhale glides hot over the curve of Dean’s cheek. Dean checks his mind, finds it at peace, no sign of Michael present. He doesn’t know how long the reprieve will last, but intends to take advantage of it while he can. He shifts, adjusting his position in Sam and Cas’ arms to get comfy and ends up cuddling on Sam, who, even in sleep drags Dean closer. 

His focus has shifted since the night, where before he was grappling for any sort of comfort Sam and Cas could provide, clarity has made him hyper aware of every place Sam and Cas are touching him. 

Beneath his clearing sleep-addled haze, Dean wants and he wants Sam and Cas more than he should. He knew that in breaking down his walls, allowing himself to feel freely, this might happen. He’s wanted too much for so long now that the dam has finally broken, he can’t hold it back any longer. 

Arousal blooms in his veins, dull but growing by the minute the more Dean focuses on the warmth of Sam and Cas. He tries to shift onto his back, to put some distance between them and quiet the yearning. Instead, Sam moves with him, scoots closer, and tightens his hold around Dean’s waist. He nuzzles his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck, lips brushing Dean’s skin, half-awake, unaware of his octopus arms and teasing mouth. Cas is worse. He curves his body further around Dean, slides his hand down Dean’s chest and settles it right over the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants. 

“Morning,” Cas says, voice gravelly right into Dean’s ear. 

Dean is suddenly _ very _ awake. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hand idly slipping underneath the hem of Dean’s t-shirt and moving back up Dean’s chest, fingertips gliding over Dean’s skin. 

Goosebumps pop up all over his body and instinctively Dean arches into Cas’ touch. A sigh punches from his throat when one of Cas’ fingers rolls over his nipple, and he curls in towards Cas. Sam follows, still attached to him with a death grip. It’s almost too much, being enveloped by the two of them, but not enough at the same time. 

“Uh, definitely better.”

“Good. No Michael?” Cas asks. He slides his teasing fingers down, pausing to rest them just above Dean’s waistband, a warm heat Dean hyper fixates on. 

“Nope, no Michael.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, blearily, words slurred as he slowly wakes up. 

He nestles his head into Dean’s shoulder and snuggles in closer, even as Dean looks over and sees Sam’s eyes blink open. 

“Your brother woke up in a _ mood _,” Cas answers. He slips his hand further down Dean’s body, making his point clear. He drags his fingers down the inside of Dean’s thigh, knuckles bumping Dean’s cock inside his sweatpants, and coaxing a low whine from Dean’s throat. 

Sam raises his head at the noise, looks at Dean and Cas curled around him, the placement of Cas’ hands. Dean sees a sleepy smirk play on his lips. “Oh?”

Dean is fucked, _ literally. _

He feels Sam’s eyes on him and Cas, even as his own slip shut as Cas starts kissing him, over-eager and more tongue than needed. But Dean opens to him and groans right into Cas’ mouth, lets Cas start to take him apart right there while Sam watches. 

“Dean,” Sam breathes and it sounds like a plea. Dean’s never heard Sam sound like that before, a sense of need in his tone that Dean had only ever dreamed of hearing. 

“Mmm?”

Amidst Cas’ kisses, Dean feels Sam’s grip tighten on his bicep.

“Can I touch you? Please?”

He’s asking permission, Dean realizes, because he’s still unsure about this, scared just like Dean is. With Cas, it’s easy, inevitable, but with Sam, there’s always been a firmly drawn line in the sand and once they finally cross it, there is no going back. Dean should care more than he does, but the world is ending and he’s tired of fighting back against what he wants. 

"Yeah, Sam,” Dean groans. He covers the hand Sam has spread wide across his stomach with his own and squeezes, letting him know it’s okay that he wants this too. 

Cas pulls back, their mouths separating with a wet pop, and nuzzles his nose against Dean’s cheek. “Kiss him.”

He feels a gentle hand on his waist, Cas’, and then he’s being maneuvered between the two of him, on his back, allowing for easier access to which he definitely won’t complain about. Dean glances between the two of them, eyes Sam’s mouth, but doesn’t have it in himself to make the final move. 

Cas’ careful hand cups his cheek, tilting his head towards Sam, ever-knowing as he is of Dean’s insecurities. Sam meets him halfway, fingers brushing Cas’ on Dean’s cheek as his hand takes Cas’ place. 

“It’s okay,” Cas murmurs, right into Dean’s ear, as Sam strokes the line of Dean’s jaw with his thumb. “He wants this too.” 

Sam makes the move for them, closing the short distance between their lips with a kiss far too chaste for its intensity. An overwhelming sense of comfort and inevitably blooms in his chest as if this was always meant to happen between the three of them. He grips Sam’s elbow, holds on tight as Sam licks into his mouth, and lets himself go. 

Cas’ hand rests on his hip, lips on Dean’s neck while he watches them kiss. It’s too much and they’re only kissing. But cradled between the two of them like this feels so right in a way he doesn’t have the words for. 

Sam pulls back, panting for air, teeth dragging over Dean’s bottom lip as he leaves. Dean whines at the loss of contact, chasing Sam’s mouth, slick and swollen in the dim light. Fuck, Dean did that. Dean knows what he must look like, how obvious his desperation is, but now that he’s tasted them both he wants more, he _ needs _ more. 

Cas mouths at his jaw, leaving damp kisses, hand dragging lazily up from where it had been teasing Dean’s cock, slipping underneath his shirt to his stomach, to get skin-on-skin. 

“What do you want?” Cas asks, voice gravelly and deep, sending a shiver rushing down Dean’s spine. 

He can’t think, not with Cas’ insistent mouth and Sam’s wandering hands. 

“Anything,” Dean says in a whisper-whine as Sam starts flicking his thumb over one of Dean’s nipples. “As long as I get both of you.”

“Good,” Cas says, and then kisses him.

Cas kisses with a kind of devotion that if Dean weren’t lying down, would bring him to his knees. He can feel it all, reverence, love, and a sense of reckless desire in the way Cas kisses, how he takes it slow, savoring every minute reaction he can coax out of Dean’s body with his mouth. Dean clings to Cas’ hips, trying to drag him closer so they can grind together, but Cas has other ideas. 

He’s resolute, determined to just kiss and make Dean fall apart. 

“You look so good together,” Sam says. His breath is hot on Dean’s neck, lips brushing Dean’s skin. He’s nearly as distracting as Cas, pressing a dozen kisses down the long line of Dean’s neck, wandering hands sliding underneath the waistband of Dean’s boxers. His palm wraps around the base of Dean’s cock and he slides down slow to the head, thumbing over Dean’s slit and getting Dean to groan into Cas’ mouth. 

“Please.” Dean whines. 

“What do you need?” Cas asks. He drags his teeth over Dean’s bottom lip, and sparks rush down Dean’s spine Lulling his head back, he arches into Sam, while Cas kisses down Dean’s neck. The heat of Sam’s loose fist, lazily jerking him off, is driving him crazy, just enough to make his toes start to curl. He’s completely enveloped between them and in the best way, it’s all too much.

“Fuck me.” Dean groans said to no one in particular. 

“Mmm,” Cas hums in agreement, kissing him briefly before starting to pull back, with a tiny smile on his lips. “Face Sam, I’ll be right back.”

As Dean moves, Sam moves with him, hands moving to fit Dean’s hips, bringing them flush together. It takes them a second, to find each other’s mouths, and Sam misses on the first try, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on Dean’s lower jaw. He’s gentler now, a careful glide of their lips together. The gravitas of it all hits him, of how delicate Sam is taking this because Dean isn’t just some girl. This bond between them, between the three of them, means more the world and its reminders of this will keep him safe from Michael. Dean lets himself float, curling into Sam, shaking palm curved around Sam’s cheek, and Dean kisses him until the bed dips and Cas slides in behind him. He’s warm, and easily gets hands back on Dean’s hips, resting just below Sam’s, mouth insistent on his cheek. 

“Open for me,” Cas whispers.

_ Jesus, fuck. _ Dean whines, unbidden, and does as Cas asks, slipping a leg between Sam’s thighs. Another hand, Sam’s, grips Dean’s thigh and brings it up so Dean is half-straddling him. Once he’s settled, Cas’ arm slips tight around his stomach, keeping Dean where Cas wants him. 

Sam kisses him, needier this time, licking into Dean’s mouth. His hand grips Dean’s thigh hard enough that Dean hopes there will be bruises there tomorrow. Things won’t go back to what they were before between the three of them, but he doesn’t know if _ this _will ever happen again and he wants to remember. 

Preoccupied with Sam’s mouth, Dean barely notices when Cas’ lubed finger nudges at his hole and slowly starts to work him open. His breath hitches and he feels Sam smile into their next kiss. 

“Feel good?” Sam asks.

Dean can only grunt in response he’s so overwhelmed.

Minutes later Dean is practically in Sam’s lap, rolling his hips against Sam’s desperate for any sort of friction he can get. Behind him, with deft fingers, Cas continues to fuck him. Dean has been ready now, knows it from how easy Cas’ three fingers slide in and out of him, but Cas is relentless. His entire body is trembling with how badly he needs Cas inside him. 

But Cas is just teasing now, because he _ can. _

Dean drops his head to Sam’s chest, panting into the notch of Sam’s neck. “Cas, please.”

“Patience,” Cas murmurs, punctuating his sentence with a kiss on the back of Dean’s neck. 

Communicating without words, Dean feels Cas’ hands brush Sam’s where they rest on Dean’s hips, they trade places. Sam grips Dean’s bicep with on hand and scoots closer. Reaching down he wraps his wide palm around the base of their cocks and slides up, starting to stroke them together. A choked groan leaves Dean’s throat as Cas fingers are replaced by his cock and he thrusts in slow. 

“I got you,” Sam pants right into his ear, and Dean clings to Sam’s shoulders, like he’s drowning. For the first time in a while, it’s a kind of drowning he welcomes. 

Dean lets himself go, let’s his body react to them and doesn’t hold back the sounds leaving his mouth. Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes, slipping down onto his cheeks. He hopes Sam doesn’t notice. He’s not upset, but he feels complete in a way he’s not sure he fully understands. 

Cas gets an easy pace going, Sam catching on fast and alternating what Cas is doing so Dean is nothing but a shaky, whimpering mess between them. Behind him, Cas’ chest presses all along Dean’s back, low guttural moans leaving his throat while he fucks Dean. It’s sexy as fuck and next time, if there is a next time, Dean wants to be able to see him. 

Dean buries his face in Sam’s neck when he gets close, whining as Sam drags a thumb over their slits and glides the wetness there back down to easily slide back up again. A few more combined strokes and thrusts has Dean coming, making a mess of Sam’s fist, and crying out against his shoulder. 

Sam follows soon after, gasping right into Dean’s ear. Dean can’t move, not even if he wanted too, he’s barely holding himself up, but Sam notices him struggling and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. He grips him and holds Dean steady while Cas chases his orgasm. Dean takes it, eyes sliding shut, whimpering into Sam’s shoulder, as sparks of pleasure rush through his body every time Cas fucks in. He’d probably be half-hard again just from how good Cas is at fucking him. 

Cas groans Dean’s name as he comes, hips stuttering, fingertips digging into Dean’s skin. He chuckles as he starts to calm down and pulls out, giddy in the high of it, and presses a wet kiss right beneath Dean’s neck. 

Once they’ve calmed down and Dean is properly situated between the two of them, their bodies pressed together, Sam’s arm arcing behind Dean’s head, Cas’ hand clasped tightly with Dean’s Sam breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Are you good?” 

“Best I’ve felt in a long time,” Dean answers, honestly. He squeezes Cas’ hand and tilts his head to the side to bump his nose against Sam’s cheek. 

“Do you want to go home?” Sam continues. 

A low sensation of panic settles in his chest, _ no _, blooms in his mouth, but he swallows thick instead. This room is a haven, one he hasn’t quite gotten enough of, but they can’t stay here forever. As much as he’d love to put Michael and the fate of the world behind him, he has to deal with it sooner rather than later, Sam and Cas, as always, at his side. Today, though, he’s selfish. He wants them to himself and he thinks, maybe just this once, he’s allowed. 

“Let’s stay, just one more day if that’s alright,” Dean answers. 

Cas hums his agreement, kissing the side of Dean’s neck. 

Sam nods. “Whatever you need.”

Michael will return it’s only a matter as to when, but for now, with the two most important people in his life next to him, Dean will bask in the peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been sitting with me for a LONG time now. Dean needed catharsis after that episode, so I gave it to him. 
> 
> As always I can be found on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels). <3


End file.
